


Don't Sugar Coat Me

by senioritastyles



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Blood, Gen, I don't know why I wrote this, No Fluff, No Smut, Oops, Razors, Sad Luke, Suicide Attempt, Violence, actually i do, but there is no relationship, did, it was because i have writers block, it's sort of muke if you squint, probably doesn't make sense, sorry - Freeform, this is sad, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 11:55:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5927460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/senioritastyles/pseuds/senioritastyles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He shoves Luke back here, this awful place, and locks him in tight, makes him watch as he does things “the way they should be done”. Luke sees it, he sees everything, observes in horror as Jesse yells at Calum for stealing Luke’s shirt, pushes Ashton roughly out of the way in search of a new one for Luke, spits a seething “fuck you” at Michael for no reason other than he can. </p><p>“What the fuck is your problem?” Michael hisses back, staring incredulously at Luke.</p><p>Luke tries to say it, to tell Michael that it’s not Luke’s fault that Jesse’s acting like an ass, but Jesse slaps Luke away before he can get a word in. “You’re my fucking problem, you freak.”</p><p>Or: Luke tries to solve all of their problems.</p><p>TRIGGER WARNING!!! PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE EASILY TRIGGERED!!!! <3333</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Sugar Coat Me

**Author's Note:**

> (title is from Avalanche by BMTH)

It’s the kind of dark that suffocates you, the unescapable kind that swallows you whole and never quite spits you out the same way you went in. The kind that plays tricks with your eyes and deafens you with its silence. That’s where Luke finds himself more often than not these days. The dark, the place where Luke knows he has to keep himself in check, where he’s not allowed to control what he does. It’s not a fun place—the air is stale like a room sealed off for hundreds of years, musty and crawling with decay. A tomb: lightless, soundless, lifeless. It’s like a time-out, a punishment when Luke does something He—Jesse—doesn’t like. He shoves Luke back here, this awful place, and locks him in tight, makes him watch as he does things “the way they should be done”. Luke sees it, he sees everything, observes in horror as Jesse yells at Calum for stealing Luke’s shirt, pushes Ashton roughly out of the way in search of a new one for Luke, spits a seething “fuck you” at Michael for no reason other than he can. 

 

“What the fuck is your problem?” Michael hisses back, staring incredulously at Luke.

 

Luke tries to say it, to tell Michael that it’s not Luke’s fault that Jesse’s acting like an ass, but Jesse slaps Luke away before he can get a word in. “You’re my fucking problem, you freak.”

 

Luke flinches right along with Michael, staring teary eyed at his colorful best friend. Luke wishes he could say something, tell Michael that he’s not a freak, that Luke loves him so much. But he can’t, he’s too afraid that if he tries to he’ll get himself smacked around again like last time. So he just cowers like a puppy, tailed tucked between his legs as he follows Jesse out of the room and into their other dressing room, where all their stuff is. He throws a shirt onto Luke’s body, fixes his hair harshly, grumbles something about how Luke’s a child and can never manage to make himself look decent and presentable. Luke tries his best not to whimper, not to let the words affect him because he’s heard them before, but he can’t hold it together. A tear leaks out of his glassy blue eyes and his lower lip quivers as Jesse looks at Luke like he’s pathetic but with some sympathy in his eyes like he understands why.

 

“Man up Luke! I told you before, you can’t be so weak all the time. People will treat you like a baby for the rest of your life if you don’t knock it off.” He tells Luke, wiping away Luke’s tears with rough fingers.

 

Luke nods silently, taking a deep breath and letting it puff out of him with a pop of his lips. Luke nods again at him, turning on his heel and stomping out of the room with determination. Jesse stays behind, always does when Luke goes on stage, so as soon as Luke shuts the door he feels a weight lift off his shoulders. Luke feels like he can breathe again, and not air that tastes stagnant and doesn’t fill his lungs the right way. Luke spots Michael backstage, just off to the side, where the blue haired boy is grabbing his guitar from the techie and slinging it over his shoulders. Luke cautiously approaches him, wrapping his arms around Michael’s waist loosely and nuzzling his face into the back of Michael’s shoulder, feeling the warmth of body heat that instantly comforts him. 

 

Michael tenses, pulling away from the younger boy so he can turn around and glare at him. “Leave me the hell alone Luke.”

 

Luke can see the hurt written all over Michael’s body, can feel it rolling off of the blue haired boy in waves that slap Luke in the face harder than a hand ever could. Michael’s brow is furrowed deeply, twisting his face into an all-around unpleasant look that Luke doesn’t like one bit. He hates that Michael looks at him this way, that his best friend and the person he trusts the most wants nothing to do with him. It makes Luke’s chest squeeze painfully tight and he’s starting to feel like he can’t breathe again as Michael turns back around. But Luke can’t go on stage like this, can’t sing his heart out and jump around when he can’t even see straight. He’s so frustrated and pissed off and upset and it’s all Jesse’s fault. Luke decides then and there that this ends tonight, that Jesse has to go right now. 

 

Luke spins on his heel, loudly stomps his way back to the room he just came out of, kicking the door open forcefully even though he can hear the boys calling after him. He spots Jesse in the corner of the room, sitting on a chair and looking at Luke like a challenge. Luke knows there’s no way to physically make him leave and the hysteria is bubbling up his chest, boiling over into his veins and swarming his brain because he wants him gone right fucking now but Luke isn’t strong enough to force him out. 

 

Ashton’s voice is still ringing in his ears from the hallway, calling him to come back out. “Luke, we’re on stage in 2 minutes, get the fuck out here!”

 

Luke’s eyes prickle with tears and his faces goes red and his hands ball into fists and Jesse’s still sitting there, smirking at Luke like he’s just waiting for the boy to try something, just waiting for him to do something other than stand there halfway in the room. Jesse lets out a deep chuckle and something in Luke snaps. He screams and launches himself at him, yanking him around by his hair and feeling him fight back. Luke’s lip starts bleeding and his head is pounding from hitting the wall behind them and Luke is still screaming profanities and sputtered insults.

 

“You fucking.....asshole...you ruin....everything!” Luke screeches, using a surprising amount of strength to chuck Jesse into the bathroom connected to the dressing room.

 

Jesse hits the floor with a slap of skin on tile, looking up with a bloody face as Luke looms over him. He’s still smiling too, the stupid fuck, and then Luke spots something gleaming from the sink next to him, instantly recognizing it. His eyes go wide and he reaches for it as fast as he can—Michael’s razor, the one he’d used to shave less than an hour ago. Luke sneers down at Jesse, fully taken over with rage and insanity as he pulls the razor up and lunges down, swiftly raking the sharp metal across his neck with as much pressure as he can muster. He does it again and again and again until the floor and his hands are soaked in blood. He can hear the boys rushing into the dressing room, calling for him frantically, but Luke knows they’ll calm down once they see that Jesse’s gone for good now, that they don’t have to worry about his outbursts and his nasty comments. Even Luke feels free, lying there on the ground now that he’s exhausted himself. He hears feet padding loudly over to the bathroom, sees Michael’s face looking down in horror.

 

“Luke, oh my fucking god, HELP! SOMEONE HELP!” Michael’s screaming, genuine terror ripping the words from his throat so loudly that Luke’s sure that it must hurt.

 

Luke tries to tell him that it’s okay, that he doesn’t have to worry anymore, but his voice won’t come out and Michael’s face is streaked with tears as he leans down over Luke. Luke opens his mouth and he feels something hot and coppery tasting bubble up and spill out, dripping over his lips. He chokes on it as he watches Michael’s trembling hands come down and wrap around Luke’s neck, the blue haired boy’s body heaving with desperate sobs. An equally distressed Calum and Ashton come bursting into the room, faces soaked with the evidence of their tears.

 

“Luke...Luke why did you do this?” Michael whimpers, voice barely above a whisper.

 

Luke wants to tell him why, wants to tell him that he had to get rid of Jesse because he was ruining everything between them and he was tearing Luke apart too, but his mouth gurgles on his explanation and he’s starting to feel drowsy, his eyes going a blurred out black around the edges. Michael sobs harder as Calum drops down to his knees to Luke’s left, body quaking with how hard he’s crying.

 

“Where the FUCK IS OUR HELP?!” Calum wails, rocking back and forth on his calves as he stares down at Luke. “It’s gonna be okay Luke, you’re gonna be okay just stay with us.” He soothes through his constantly sniffling.

 

Ashton whines from the door, hand slapping over his own mouth as he nearly doubles over from crying so hard. Luke watches them all with droopy eyes, wondering why the hell they’re so upset when everything can be better now that Jesse’s not going to terrorize them anymore. Can’t they see him lying there, not one foot away? Luke rolls his head to the side as well as he can with Michael’s hands still pushing on his neck, and when he looks over Luke realizes that he’s not there. Jesse’s not lying motionless on the floor where Luke left him, where he should be, and panic immediately sets in because there is no fucking way he survived. There’s no way he got up and walked away totally fine. Luke lamely kicks his feet in anger, his chest squeezing again and he feels lightheaded and floaty, the only thing anchoring him down is Michael’s hands and Calum quiet pleas for him to stay. Luke wants to tell them that he’s not going anywhere but he can’t, he can’t find his voice and before he has a chance to there’s people running in and knocking Ashton nearly off his feet and they push Calum away and they’re dropping down next to Luke with an air of urgency and determination and Luke can faintly make out the letters “EMT” on their shirts. 

 

“Keep your hands still for me.” One woman directs Michael, the blue haired boy nodding frantically, looking down at Luke like letting go is the last thing he’d ever do.

 

When the woman nods at Michael, he lifts his hands and she immediately replaces them with a stack of thick white gauze pads, taping them down and pushing down just shy of uncomfortable. Luke struggles to breathe as his eyes start to close, but he can still see Michael kneeling next to him, the older boy staring at his hands in shock and Luke can see that there’s something on them and it looks like....is that blood? Why is there blood on Michael’s hands? He was holding Luke’s neck, there’s no blood there.

 

“You’re going to be okay Luke.” Some man is telling him as he’s lifted up onto a gurney and strapped down.

 

But what are they—

 

“What’s his EBL?” 

 

Luke is fine, they don’t—

 

“Let’s get him to the van.”

 

This doesn’t make sense, they should be worrying about—

 

“We need to check his vitals.”

 

Why does he feel so tired? He didn’t do that much—

 

“His heart rate is slowing, we’re losing him!”

 

Losing him? Is...is that what’s happening?

 

“Luke, Luke please!”

 

And that’s....that’s Calum running after them, but please what? What can Luke do?

 

“Don’t give up Luke, please!”

 

Ashton? Where even is he? Luke can’t see him but he can smell the cologne. And there’s....is that a hand holding his? It’s not Ashton’s, it’s too small. Must be Michael’s, but when did he get here? Where even is here?

 

“Get moving now, he’s stable but not for long!”

 

Stable? That’s good right? But Luke still doesn’t understand, did he exhaust himself or something? Did he push himself too far? Luke knows he’s not physically fit or anything, but he hardly exerted himself that much. Why does he need to be here?

 

“Luke, why?”

 

And there’s that stupid question coming out of Michael’s mouth again, and Luke really can’t understand why Michael doesn’t get it. He was saving them, saving the band and their friendship, how does that not make sense? 

 

“I mean, I know you’ve been having trouble lately dealing with the shit that we deal with, I mean we all do Luke, but Jesus.” Michael huffs, squeezing Luke’s hand and trying to hold back the sob that tries to pry its way out. “Luke if you felt this bad then you should’ve said something...you should’ve told me. Is that why you’ve been so distant and rude all the time? Were you pushing us away so you could do this?”

 

Do...what? Luke hasn’t been rude to anyone! He tried to cuddle Michael not 20 minutes ago and Michael’s the one who pushed him away! 

 

“I never thought you’d try to kill yourself Luke! I mean fuck, if I thought that for even a second I would’ve gotten you help, I would’ve helped you Luke! You didn’t have to do this.”

 

Kill himself? He tried to....kill himself? But—

 

“Jesus, I can’t fucking believe this.” Michael whispers, almost to himself and he’s staring at Luke’s neck.

 

But there’s no way. It’s not possible. Luke cut Jesse’s neck, not his own. Right? But the way Michael’s looking at him says he’s not right. Like he’s wrong. And when Luke looks up at the slightly reflective ceiling, he’s met with the sight of his neck, covered in tight bandages that press down heavily, a large stain of crimson right in the center.

**Author's Note:**

> K so hello. I don't even know, honestly. I'm sorry that this isn't fluffy or smutty or anything like what I usually post, but I fully blame my abnormal psychology class for this one. I did tag it in there, but in case some of you don't know DID stands for Dissociative Identity Disorder, it used to be referred to as Multiple Personality Disorder or MPD. To give a basic definition, it means that there is the presence of two or more distinct personality identities, and usually this other personality or personalities has/have a unique name, character traits, etc. It's an interesting disorder to study, and I needed to cure some writer's block (SHOCKER) so here you are. I'm sorry if this was like....upsetting to anyone but please don't read if you're easily triggered or don't like mentions of blood/suicide/violence! I mean if you're down here at the ending notes it's probably too late, but yeah. I hope no one is disappointed that this isn't a normal post, and I hope you enjoyed it anyway! Love you guys, and as always please leave comments and feedback and suggestions down below<3 ALSO PLEASE NOTE THAT I HAVE CHANGED ONE OF MY TUMBLRS SO BEWARE THAT HEMMOTEXT IS NO MORE!!!!
> 
> tumblr: senioritastyles & babyhemhem  
> twitter: traysadilla  
> insta: tahracee  
> SC: youngtray  
> ponder: traceecatherine


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